


Lips of Gorse

by dubbbz



Category: IDubbbzTV - Fandom
Genre: Gen, IDubbbzTV - Freeform, Idubbbz - Freeform, M/M, Maxmoefoe - Freeform, crookedubbbz, maxian, pls read this????????????? uwu, theres actually no non-con or violence yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubbbz/pseuds/dubbbz
Summary: this is a bit of a concept? an idea. of idubbbz being a scary crooked gentleman, and max falling in love w him?? i may turn it into a full fic. read it and tell me if you like it!!!! if u rlly do then i will continue it :)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Little Necessary Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. (More so, this is an AU). The characters in this story have the same names and appearances (sorta) as the youtubers,, but in no way am I saying this is what I think they are like. Because, well, obviously, I don't know them. (and this is an AU.) I don't think maxian is real in real life; both Max and Ian have girlfriends and I support their relationships and want em to be happy. If Max, Ian, George, Chad, or any close friend of theirs comes across this and is reading this right now, I'm very sorry,,,(incredibly sorry),,, pleas do not hate on me, I am just trying my best and writing this is what makes me happy!! ahh!!!! ty for reading my disclaimer. enjoy the story,
> 
> ALSO: Premature warning for (probably, im not entirely sure yet) graphic violence/gore and (most probably) physical abuse/non-con. I will put a warning at the beginning of every chapter if something is gonna happen, but if you don't want to be anywhere near a story that has these things, please don't read this, because its gonna get bad in later chapters. thankyou.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He watched the ice cream container intently, as it slowly filled with the water that was dripping from the cracked ceiling. Each rhythmic drip created a little ripple on the surface of the water, and it mesmerised him as he sat there, creaky joints on a sagging chair. Drip. Drip. Drop.

The drips were quiet, and were almost drowned out by the relentless noise of rain hitting the window from outside. Almost as if in a story book, the shadow from the tall tree behind him hit the wall in an eerie display of crooked limbs and make-believe claws. As it swayed in the wind, he watched from the corner of his eye the light brighten and fade when car headlights shone past and illuminated the room. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Um, Max, we’re out of toilet paper.” He felt the body presence next to him, and heard the quiet voice, but didn’t turn his head.

“Go buy some then.”

“I don’t like the rain.” A frantic hand laid itself on his arm. “Please go buy some? We don’t have anything else to use.”

“Use your fucking twilight books, Casper.” He finally turned his head, shrugging off the bony hand.

“Come on, please, the store’s only a block away?” Casper looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Ugh, you’re such a pussy, dude.” Max rolled his eyes, getting up off the chair, and Casper smiled with relief.

“Thanks, Max.”

“Don’t mention it.” He huffed, clearly annoyed.

 

The wind stung Max’s face no matter how much he pulled his hood down and turned away. He stumbled, semi-blind, down the street, blistered feet in old sneakers (that were quickly becoming soaked with water), tattered coat wrapped firmly around his body. The umbrella he had _planned_ to use had broken before he’d even taken a step with it open. Oh well. It was just one block, then he’d be there, he’d come home, he could have a warm bath or something.

 _“Ah, fuck!”_ The howling wind swirled around him and his hair whipped into his already squinting eyes. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” He muttered, rubbing his eyes, nearly walking into a lamp post. Flickery orange light was cast upon the street, contrasting with the cold darkness of the night and giving all the looming buildings an eerie, empty look. Parked cars he stumbled by were glistening with water, and covered in wind-torn leaves. There was no one else on the street, only a couple of homeless men huddling in a door way, a little bit in front of him. Max felt sorry for them, and gave them a weak smile as he staggered past.

Just as he turned away, one of them shouted,

“Hey! Could you, could you spare some change? Please...” His voice was hoarse, and his outstretched arm shook with the cold. Oh, man. Max felt awful, and so he walked back towards them, beginning to take out his already pitiful wallet. He fumbled, fingers numb with the cold, vision blurred by the rain. And then, with such conditions, it took him a moment to realise there was a knife right in front of his face, connected to a no longer shaking arm, connected to a body with a snarling face.

“Hand it over.” Water droplets hung from his greying, bushy eyebrow hairs. Max was shocked, but it took a moment to process.

“Are you mugging me?” He asked, dumbly. Then it registered. Without thinking, he kicked his leg up, impacting harshly into the man’s crotch. Where was the other man? Who knows? He ran. The first man let out a pained cry, almost falling to the ground, and the other man appeared from somewhere and begun to chase him. What the fuck? Wallet in hand, Max ran blindly into the rain, hearing only the splashes of his feet into puddles, ringing in his ears, and the grunting of the man behind him. Through shaky vision he saw an alleyway coming up to his right, and after seeing his chaser was somewhat behind him, he hurtled himself into the alleyway.

Some sort of tree root or piece of garbage tripped him up, and Max tumbled to the ground, hands flying out in front of him, landing in a puddle and grazing both his palms and chin. It took a moment for the pain to hit him, and when it did, he just curled up on the ground, pain pounding through his body and his heart still thumping with adrenaline. The rain hit his cheek, nose, ear, and dripped down off him on to the unsympathetic, rough concrete.

Eventually Max got up, wincing at his tired joints and groaning at the pain of his grazes. He moved to the wall of the alleyway, where he was somewhat out of the rain, and tried to pick bloody gravel out of his hands. Checking his still had his wallet, with what little money he had in it, Max began to walk, away from the street, too afraid to go back.

 

Where do alleyways lead to? In all the movies they lead to unpassable barbed wire fences and some sort of doom. Doom, doom- Max’s heavy footsteps thudded along the descending ground, taking him somewhere, somewhere, hopefully... Cold, still smarting hands shoved in pockets, hair drenched, squelching shoes, he kept on walking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a rat dart into a storm drain. Max shivered, shoulders hunched, beginning to get the odd feeling someone was watching him. There was light, there was; only a hundred metres away, another street. He just had to get there, buy toilet paper, then find the way home.

Another rat (or was it the same rat?) scrambled in front of him, making him jump.

“Holy shit, fuck.” He muttered, shaking his head and hunching over further. His eyes didn’t stray from the ground, trying his hardest just to not trip up, as he plodded down the dark alley, water squishing out from his shoes. Max was just avoiding a puddle, when _two cold arms_ wrapped around him, one hand around his mouth, and one around his throat.

He was pulled against a hard body. He kicked out, and tried to scream. But the hand at his mouth muffled him and the hand at his throat constricted his breath, making him fall limp in a matter of seconds. When he’d stopped struggling, the arm choking him loosened, and Max gasped for air, breath jagged and frantic. He was just about to speak when he was thrown against the brick wall. The man who had grabbed him, who Max had paranoidly thought was one of one of the muggers, stood in front of him, pinning him to the wall. Stand? Really, he loomed.

The man’s face was contorted into an intimidating expression, deep set eyes piercing at him under dark brows, a pale forehead, and strangely dry hair. But strangest of all was his almost... grin, mouth curled up at the corners in a way that made Max’s legs go weak. Not with arousal, no, what the fuck? With fear. Max breathed heavily, frozen, looking up at the figure that towered over him. The man was wearing a black coat, similar to Max’s, but again, curiously dry. He dared not look down; he was afraid of what the terrifying man would do if he moved in anyway... and so he stared, heart pounding in his ears, body throbbing from shock and pain. The man spoke, eventually.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” The question sounded like a harsh accusation, in a voice that shook Max to the core. He sounded so angry but so... calm? Max blinked.

“I’m um, I’m, uh, lost, I got mugged- well, almost, ah-” He gasped, scared for his life.

“Oh _FUCKING_ hell!” The man let go of him, kicking a trash can as he yelled, and Max’s legs gave way, making him slide down the wall, onto the wet ground.

“U-um,” Max began, having no idea what to do. The man turned back to him, a surprised look on his face, as though he’d just realised he was here.

“Get fucking lost.” He pointed, a long arm cloaked in black pointing to where Max had been heading. The man bent over him, looking down at the small pile of Max with a long neck and crooked head tilt. He swallowed, watching the man with wide eyes. “Did you hear me? _Get. The fuck. Out of Here_.” He said, words dripping with consequence. Max looked down, hurriedly picking his hurt body up and stumbling away, as the man glared at him.

Max could feel the man’s glare burning into the back of his head as he walked away, all the way until he reached the end of the alley, a brightly lit street. He didn’t find the will to look back, not even once, but felt a thrill of relief when he turned the corner safely, making it out alive. His back ached, is legs were trembling, his face was bleeding, and he was incredibly, incredibly confused. But, he was okay. Max found himself to a convenience store, shivering when warm air hit him as he entered. He shook his head, dripping water from his hair to the linoleum floor, and brought his hands out of his pockets, realising how bloody he was. A half asleep Indian man behind the counter sat up, and stared at him in shock.

Squelching down the aisles, Max found some sticking plasters, and the god forsaken toilet paper. The man behind the counter kept a wary eye on him the whole time, but it was nowhere near as disconcerting as the man in the alley’s glare. There was a stand of umbrellas that Max noticed as he was paying for the items, and he asked how much they were.

“You can uh... Free. Free.” The man looked worried, then began nodding vigorously, grabbing an umbrella and handing it to him.

“Aw, thanks.” Max gave him a warm smile, surprised at his generosity. Or maybe he was just terrified? Who knew? He asked the man if he could look after the things he bought while Max went to the bathroom to plaster his wounds. The man nodded, giving him a little smile.

Walking out of the bathroom, slightly more dry, and covered in plasters, Max caught sight of a small television up on the wall. It was showing the news, and a sorrowful looking blonde woman was having her hair blown about as she spoke to the camera. The noise kept cutting out, but Max could catch some of what she was saying:

_“So I’m here at ... a young male has been found dead ... victim of a mugging, perhaps .... ....”_

The man behind the counter was transfixed on the screen also. He turned towards Max.

“Take care out there.” The man said, to which Max mumbled an agreement, then headed back out. The cold air stung his face, but at least the rain had died down a bit, and he could see a little better. It turned out he knew where he was, and found his way home relatively easy.

 

-

 

His wet clothes fell into a Max-shaped pile at the door, leaving him in his underwear. His fingers trembled as he threw the toilet paper and plasters onto the kitchen bench, leaving the umbrella with his clothes at the door.

“Holy shit, Max! I was so worried!” Casper’s usually frail voice was loud with urgency. “They said on the news some dude had been killed, I thought it was you, holy shit!” His wide eyes trembled.

“I’m okay.” Max muttered, not having enough energy to console them.

“What happened to you?” Casper followed Max down the hallway into his room, where he began rummaging for warm clothes.

“I got fucking mugged, well _almost_ , and then...” Max relayed the confusing story to his flatmate, whose eyes grew wider and wider with every strange event.

“I’m glad you’re okay...” They said solemnly, as Max finished.

“Yeah... Me too.” Max replied, shaking his head, sitting down on the chair in the living room.

The water continued to drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

**Author's Note:**

> what do you think?? the casper is not based on casper as in that blonde dude who's like a viner, idk i just like the name. what do y'all think lmao


End file.
